Thursday the 4th of September a special day. I wake up feeling crap but I remember that yesterday I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with my eldest daughter waiting for the results of her eye examination, which turned out all good, and remember that ironically six years ago I was sitting in a hospital having my first chemo session. Six years ago today I posted my first blog. I tell my partner this and she gets Alexa to play “i’m still standing” and dances to it at the end of the bed. Its a moment and when she has gone to have her hair cut leaving me still to get up I write a poem.

460
I remember yesterday
is my anniversary.
It skipped my mind 
as I sat in a hospital
with a worried daughter
whose eyes turn out 
to be good.
Six years ago  I sat
in a hospital
for my first chemo.
Today my partner
dances to "I'm still standing"
at the foot of our bed
as I slowly enter the day.
That's joy, 
that's love,
were still standing.

                       460 04-09-2025

I finally get up and get into my training kit, full of good intentions having taken my vitals and found my blood pressure slightly elevated for me. I have days like this recently when my blood pressure is higher for me than usual, to day it coincides with me feeling shit. I have breakfast with the intention to train but find I need to fill my dosettes so I gather up my drugs and start to fill them for the next two weeks. I am part way through the pill distribution when friend rings. She is in the middle of running chores like returning children’s shoes and doing the recycling run. We chat about how our families are and what our children are doing. It is a pleasure to hear her news and to catch up. After the call I continue to organise pills until I get a message from my son confirming his wedding date next year. If I am lucky and all goes well I will be in Stockholm at the end of March next year.

My partner returns and makes bacon sandwiches for lunch which I cannot refuse, however I wash them down with dissolvable paracetamol as I still feel so crap. I draft the blog while I wait to feel better, the window clean arrives and goes in a blink of the shammy leather and equally quickly I pay the fee by BACS. I need to rest but need to train so I recline hear waiting for the paracetamol to swing me one way or another. One last time I check my emails and to my surprise I find the proposed cover for my anthology. It matches the theme of my other covers and is almost what I want. On checking my manuscripts I find there is a terrible mistake in the Preface. There is time to draft a reply email and to request the changes needed before I get tempted by a bit of world cup football but I get bored by half time and if I am not careful I will have walked around all day in my training gear and not trained. Although I do not feel like it I get myself into the garage and onto the rower, knowing how I am, I set myself for a 30 minute session. The session is tough and I come in under my usual standard but I’m just pleased to have finished it.

Post session I record the session, down a pint of Ribena and a scone and then return to drafting the blog. It is early evening and all I intend to do this evening is to rest and move slowly through it until I reach time to take my night meds and get myself to bed and rest. I am pleased that I do not have anything in my diary for a couple of days. At the moment life seems to be an effort, and I am not sure why.